


Fashion Show In A Small Stall

by what_a_dork_fish



Series: Skirts [2]
Category: James Bond (Craig movies)
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Q in a dress is adorable to me okay, very short
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-17
Updated: 2016-07-17
Packaged: 2018-07-24 15:30:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 449
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7513541
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/what_a_dork_fish/pseuds/what_a_dork_fish
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Q and Bond visit a clothing store.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fashion Show In A Small Stall

“How about this one?”

James rubs his mouth and chin to hide how he’d automatically bitten his lip. This is going to kill him, he knows it.

“Stunning,” he drawls, for the fifth time. “Beautiful. Gorgeous. Can we leave now?”

Q glares at him, tugging fitfully to get the shirt to hang better. It’s a lovely dusky twilight blue, keyhole neckline, long, fitted sleeves, and a bubble skirt of the same material and color. How Q even found this shop—one that sells women’s clothes especially designed to fit men—James has no idea. But he enjoys watching Q try on this or that combination, ordering James in and out of the over-large fitting room with the rejects or to fetch things in another size, his cheeks flushed and his eyes bright as they only ever are when he’s working on some especially interesting project.

James loves seeing him like this. It makes him smile, to see Q so animated. And he gets to watch Q change, which is always fun; Q always gives a little hop and a wiggle when he’s settling clothes, and it does very bad things to James.

But mostly he’s content to watch Q frown in the mirror and turn sharply to ask James’ opinion.

Now Q picks up the silky red cocktail dress he’d picked, seemingly on a whim, and holds it up to himself in the mirror. He looks suddenly unhappy.

“Q.” James is on his feet immediately, wrapping his arm around Q’s waist. “Babe. What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.” Q goes to hang the red dress on the ‘reject’ hook, then stops. Then he whirls around and asks sharply, “Is this making you uncomfortable?”

“What, you having fun?” James retorts, surprised. “Not at all. What’s wrong with this one?”

“It’s… I don’t think I could pull it off,” Q mumbles, looking at the draping fabric with obvious longing.

James presses a kiss to Q’s temple. “Try it on anyway,” he suggests, and no one they know would think he could sound so gentle.

Q sighs, but rids himself of the blue ensemble and slips the red dress over his head.

Now, James has seen his share of femme fatales, and he’s even seen men in dresses who’ve looked more beautiful than the women who wore the same thing; but this is Q. This is his lovely Quartermaster, in a strappy satin dress with a low back, who suddenly looks much happier and more at ease as he cocks his head and eyes himself in the mirror.

“Well,” Q says, “I suppose we should get this one too, if only as a guilty pleasure.”

“I assure you, nothing here is guilty,” James murmurs, smiling.


End file.
